The sky was set ablaze.
Warriors cloaked in unique and technologically advanced armor clashed across the torn sky and the shattered earth, their guns spitting dozens of bullets each second, each one carrying the power of a tank shell. Every impact split stone and steel alike, and the ground beneath their feet cracked like glass under their sheer strength.
The chaos only grew by the second.
Colossal entities, towering more than seventy meters high, collided amidst the smoke, war machines whose weapons burned brighter than artificial suns, each second consuming more energy than a nuclear plant could produce in a decade.
One of the massive mechanized vessels brought another to its knees, driving its blade deep into the foe's cockpit. Just as the killing blow was about to fall, a beam of incandescent light tore down from the sky. It struck both friend and foe alike, erasing them in a single blinding instant.
And then the sky itself trembled.
A shadow loomed across the burning clouds, a ship vast enough to blot out the sun, built to sail the vacuum between stars. It was larger than a country, its hull scarred with the memory of countless wars. And it was not alone.
Dozens more descended in formation, trading fire with enemy fleets or plunging into the atmosphere to engage in brutal orbital duels. Some captains, when defeat grew inevitable, rammed their ships into the enemy, turning their own vessels into weapons in one final act of defiance.
It was a spectacle beyond words, destruction and might on a divine scale, the kind of violence that would make gods, if any really exist, tremble in awe.
Then it happened.
The sky split apart. A surge of light, white and black intertwined, descended from the vacuum of space. The beam struck one of the largest ships, a vessel that rivaled continents in size.
It carved a hole clean through its core before hurtling onward into the distance. The resulting explosion vaporized everything nearby, turning the battlefield into a sea of molten fire. The continental ship fell from orbit, crashing into the earth and ending millions of lives in an instant.
Amidst that cataclysm, two figures emerged from the rift.
They were not meteors, nor celestial spirits. They were men, or something close to men. One clad in armor of blinding white, the other in shadow-black steel.
The blade of the man in white hummed at a frequency so high that it didn't merely cut; it severed the bonds between atoms themselves. With every swing, it tore through existence. His sword was buried deep in the chest of the man in black, pinning him down.
The blast had destroyed part of the dark man's armor, revealing his face. Young and cold, dark hair and yellow eyes. Blood dripped from his mouth, yet his eyes burned with undying defiance.
"Stop this futility," the man in white said, his voice cold and even. "I am the White King, and you are the Dark King. Our destinies are bound upon this great chessboard. Your rebellion is nothing but a smear upon the Great Plan."
The Dark King clenched his teeth, blood seeping down his chin. Every breath was agony, his insides burning like molten lead, but still he glared upward. "The Great Plan?" he spat. "What you are forging is an abomination!"
The White King's gaze did not waver. "What I am forging," he said, "is a future. A fate for humanity where we stand at the peak of all creation."
"You're no savior," the Dark King snarled. "You're a shepherd leading them to the slaughterhouse!" His voice rose into a roar, eyes blazing brighter than the fires around them. "Their future is built upon graves!"
A flicker of cold amusement crossed the White King's eyes. He twisted the sword. The motion made the Dark King convulse, coughing up a mouthful of blood that stained his chin and armor.
"They will never know it," the White King murmured. "There will be no one left to tell them."
He twisted again. The sound of rending flesh echoed like cracking stone. The Dark King's organs ruptured under the vibration, all except his heart.
"One last chance," the White King said. "Accept your place in the Great Plan, and you will witness glory untold. We will be savior, venerated for all eternity."
The Dark King smiled, a broken, blood-streaked grin. His trembling hand rose and seized the blade buried in his chest. "I will never be a slave."
Then he struck the ground.
Even drained of strength, the impact sent shockwaves across the world. The earth convulsed. Mountains split apart. Volcanoes erupted in furious response. Oceans rose in towering waves, consuming entire continents.
"Enjoy paradise!" the Dark King shouted, his voice a mix of madness and conviction that carried across the dying world.
The White King stepped back, watching the destruction spread like wildfire. His helmet split apart, revealing a face, the same face as the man before him. His own features were mirrored in the dying Dark King's eyes.
"Good trick," he said softly. "But it changes nothing. Even this won't end me. No matter where you flee, I will follow. I am your death, now and forever."
The two men stared into each other's eyes, mirror images of will, hatred, and inevitability, as the planet's core ignited beneath them.
Light consumed all.
The world went supernova, erasing soldiers, ships, and kings alike in a cleansing flame.
Silence followed. The great war of mankind, the most brutal and destructive in its history, ended not in victory but in annihilation.
---
Time, the eternal healer, and the ultimate eraser.
Given enough of it, even the deepest wounds fade. Wars end. Names are forgotten. Blood dries and becomes dust.
So it was, in the distant future, when the scars of that final war had been buried beneath new continents and new skies. Humanity endured. It always did.
From the ashes rose a new generation, one that did not remember the kings. Soldiers once more took up arms, armored in suits that let them run as fast as machines and strike with the might of cannons. Their rifles fired rounds strong enough to pierce concrete, each bullet with the force of a grenade.
And yet, even with such power, they were dying.
Their enemy was not human, at least, not anymore. The creatures had the shape of men but were swollen and grotesque, their flesh red and pulsing, their faces consumed by fungal tendrils that writhed like living mouths. They tore through the soldiers' ranks, moving with feral grace, devouring one after another until only one man remained.
His name was Markus, and his eyes were wide with horror.
The men and women who had fought beside him were more than comrades; they were his family, the only one he had ever known. And now, they were dead.
He had lost everything.
As the zombie-like creatures lunged toward him, claws slashing and jaws gaping, Markus knew he was about to lose his life as well. One of them leapt at him, its maw stretching wide to bite—
—and then his eyes flashed yellow.
A wild smile broke across his face, part madness, part defiance. He moved with inhuman speed, every shot he fired striking true. Bullets tore through skulls and spines with surgical precision. He became a blur, a phantom of fury.
When it was over, he stood alone amid a mountain of corpses piled at his feet. The smile still lingered as he clenched his fist, blood dripping from his armor. Then thunder rolled above him. Clouds gathered, thick and white, swallowing the sun.
A single beam of blinding lightning fell from the sky, striking the heap of bodies. The dead twitched, shuddered, and began to move. Markus's smile faded. His eyes went cold as he looked up at the firmament, just as a massive shadow descended, and everything went black.
---
In a different place, in a different time, a squad of massive soldiers advanced through a wasteland. Their armor gleamed with power, their weapons capable of leveling cities. They fought an army of machines, cold, relentless, precise. Flesh triumphed over steel for a time, the enhanced soldiers tearing through the mechanical ranks with brutal efficiency.
But then the ground shook.
From the horizon rose a metal titan, a gargantuan beast shaped like a monstrous T-Rex, its roar like a collapsing world. It unleashed storms of plasma and shrapnel, tearing through the soldiers one by one until only one remained.
That last man stood tall, a familiar madness glinting in his yellow eyes. He grinned and charged, firing straight into the creature's sensor array, blinding it. Then he reached onto its head, blasting open its skull and planting explosives deep within. The bombs detonated in a cascade of light, engulfing the monster in flame.
A flawless victory for the man with yellow eyes, but it did not last long.
Moments later, the sky darkened. A storm gathered, and a spear of lightning descended, reacting with the machine's unstable core. The explosion swallowed the man whole.
---
High atop a distant mountain, an old man stood alone, staring into the endless horizon. His yellow eyes were weary, reflecting lifetimes of war, rebirth, and loss.
"Doing the same thing over and over," he murmured, "and expecting it to end differently… that's madness."
A faint smile crossed his lips. "So I suppose it's time to change the script."
He looked to the sky one last time.
A white arc of lightning split the firmament and struck the mountain, making the earth rise and bury him alive.